User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Red Tables/@comment-3135907-20150213202022/@comment-3135907-20150217094437

OOC: Oh, I see wot yer doin': waitin' fer me to start Tweng's thread. Logical chap that ye are.

Mulker Tweng crouched on a treestump, watching his tree rats through the bleached eyesockets of the otter that once made use of the skull; the same skull that now served the mundane purpose of a mask for its new rat owner. He didn't smile. He stared instead through wide, almost curious-looking eyes, his face expressionless, as Zkau begged for his mercy. The painted Juskazuun weasel was on the ground now, sobbing bitterly as her fate became all-too-apparent and inescapably imminent to her. "Please, let me live, I'm not who ya want! I can be useful to ya- " Mulker stepped down and softly put a claw to his mouth. "Shhh....there, there. All's well that ends well....if yer can prove yer werth to me on this earth other'n yer werth as dinner in me tum, eheheh." Zkau shivered visibly and gave a strangled sob of fear. "Please....I will do anything it takes!"

"O' courses, o' courses yer will, me pore luckless friend. I likes yer, Zkau. The only thing I'm not certain of is..." The weasel looked up nervously as the rat's voice faded for a moment. "...only thing is: will I like yer more if'n yer inside o' my belly, or if'n yer out 'ere doin' yer job like yer says?" Zkau resumed sobbing and grovelling hopelessly.

"Now, about this "job". What kind o' services would yer be doin' fer me that my lackeys can't already do? Hard question, eh?" Tweng drew out one of his long, razor-sharp, primitive obsidian stone-blades and began picking his teeth as the weasel began to babble out her plans, any plans, any plans at all that would save her from a spit over a roasting fire and ultimately a spot in her captor's bellies.